


Building

by Ordered_Chaos



Series: Building [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Baker Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Foster Care, Gen, M/M, Teacher Dean Winchester, Young Crowley (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-19 17:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10644396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordered_Chaos/pseuds/Ordered_Chaos
Summary: Dean and Cas go to meet their soon-to-be foster son, a surly teenager who doesnotwant to be called Fergus.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hekate1308](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for [Hekate1308](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308). We met one year ago today and I am so thankful for every moment we've had together since. Without her, I never would have posted any fic.

“But if it’s not a paper airplane when I hand it in, you’ll never see my awesome paper airplane skills, Mr. Winchester.”

“If it’s a paper airplane when I’m trying to grade it, I can’t read your handwriting,” Dean replies. “Do you want a zero, Gabriel?”

“You could try harder,” the boy grumbles. He folds his arms and glares away from Dean, toward the display of art projects the students made back when they read _To Kill a Mockingbird._ Dean is particularly proud of Hannah’s “Wings of Justice,” for which the thirteen-year-old painted feathers with different scenes from the book, then attached them to a model of two children hugging each other.

Dean frowns, and Gabe quickly backtracks. “Sorry, Mr. Winchester. I just meant—”

Dean sighs and interrupts him. “It’s okay, Gabe. How about this: I don’t wanna miss out on what you’ve got to say, so how about I give you back an assignment, _then_ you fold it and hand it back in.”

“And I can get extra credit?” Gabe asks.

“No way,” Dean laughs. “Unless you convince everyone in all my classes to do it.”

Gabe grins. “So if I do, you’ll give it to us?”

Dean sees a dark-haired head poke around the doorway of his classroom. He laughs. “We’ll see. Now you better get to Balthazar and Samandriel before they kidnap my husband again.”

“Have a good night, Mr. Winchester!” Gabe calls as he scampers toward the door.

Dean follows him and finds Castiel engaged in conversation with the two boys in question. Well, engaged in conversation with Balthazar, who can’t ever seem to take his eyes off Cas when he’s around. Samandriel looks like he’s in his own little world, as usual.

“Hi, other-Mr.-Winchester,” Gabe greets him.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Cas replies. He’s got flour smudges on his suit pants that make him look like he’s been kneeling on a cloud. “Are you in trouble again?”

“Barely,” Dean says. “See you boys tomorrow,” he adds pointedly.

They depart down the hallway and Dean leads Cas into his classroom. Once out of sight of any students, they give each other a quick peck on the lips.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asks.

Dean squeezes his hands. “Nervous. You?”

Cas nods. “It would be abnormal for us not to feel this way.”

Dean rubs a hand over his eyes. “Just let me pack up. Gabriel took more time than I expected.”

“The paper airplanes?” Cas asks as Dean starts gathering his things and throwing them into his bag. His barely-eaten lunch misses completely and Cas picks it up for him.

“Thanks,” Dean says. “And yeah. You were right, by the way. He asked for extra credit.”

“He knows how to bargain,” Cas laughs.

Dean kisses him again just to feel the certainty of Cas against him. All day, his heart has been going back and forth between painful overdrive and frightening stillness.

“Are we even ready for this?” he whispers. “What if this was a bad idea?”

“It’s not,” Cas tells him, and holds him tight. They stare into each other’s eyes in a way that’s somehow more intimate than kissing. Dean swallows.

“Right,” he says gruffly. He picks up his bag, puts it back down, grabs his coat, pulls it on, and reaches for his bag again.

“Let me,” Cas says. He takes the bag from Dean’s shaking fingers and kisses his forehead. “Come on.”

Dean locks the door of the classroom and they leave the school. The Impala is by far the coolest car in the whole lot, as she should be.

“I want to be good,” Cas says, gazing up at the puffy, meandering clouds. “At this, I mean.”

Dean squeezes his hand to comfort him. They’re in this together, after all. “You will be. How could you not?”

“I didn’t have many role models to learn from.”

“Preach, babe.”

“At least you had Bobby,” Cas says. “He called today.”

They reach the car and Dean unlocks the passenger side. He opens the door for Cas, who smiles and climbs in.

“What’d he say?” Dean asks as he gets in the driver’s seat. He flicks out the proper key and eases it into the ignition. Baby’s been complaining about the cold, lately. He’s been meaning to give her a thorough tune-up, but he just hasn’t had time.

“He was wishing us luck,” Cas says, leaning forward to turn on the radio. This deep in the suburbs, they don’t have many options for classic rock stations, but Cas finds “Sympathy for the Devil” and smiles. Dean pulls out of the school parking lot and heads toward the highway.

“That’s it?”

“He also wants us to come over for a barbeque on Saturday.”

“I thought he was out of town.”

Cas nods. “He changed his plans and is getting back Friday. He said he’s bringing something special back with him.”

“I hope it’s not more obscure beer,” Dean says with a grin. “My teeth hurt just thinking about that crap.”

Cas shudders. “At least he has a hobby?”

Dean grins over at him. “I been meaning to get one of those.”

“I think the car very much appreciates your current one.”

“She deserves to be treated well,” Dean says, patting the wheel. “She’s older than both of us put together.”

Cas frowns, doing the math in his head.

“Don’t overthink this, Mr. Winchester,” Dean says.

Cas smirks at him. “Good thing you’re not a math teacher.”

Dean’s phone rings as they laugh together. He gives it to Cas, who thumbs over the screen with one hand and turns the radio down with the other.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas says.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hi, Sam,” Dean says.

“Oh, good, you’re both there,” Sam says. “Listen I know this is a big day for you…” Dean and Cas exchange a look. “… And really, I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Dean says.

“But there’s been a development in the case. I don’t think I can spare any time to come over tonight. Or this week at all.”

“Hey, that’s alright,” Dean says quickly. “Listen, Bobby’s planning dinner for this weekend. You in?”

“I hadn’t heard. You know I don’t have my personal phone on me at work,” Sam says. “I’ll try to be there.”

Dean breathes off his irritation and lets Cas field the response. “We hope to see you there, Sam,” Cas says. “Saturday afternoon.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Good luck with the rest of the case!” Dean calls, but he’s pretty sure Sam has already hung up. Cas puts the phone down.

They continue driving in peaceful silence. This time of day, there’s minimal traffic going into the city, which Dean is grateful for. He’s less thrilled about the lines of stagnant cars already coagulating in the opposite direction. But they’ll worry about that later.

Finally, they reach the tall brick office building that has been the setting of Dean’s anxiety dreams for the past several months. He finds a parking space and locks the car. Hand in hand, he and Cas walk into the Office of Child Protective Services in Kansas City, Missouri.

Michael, the office’s young receptionist who always looks like he’s in the middle of watching a boring documentary that's _not_ voiced by Morgan Freeman, greets them with familiarity.

“Misters Winchester,” he says. “She’s in her office.”

“And the… our….” Dean doesn’t know what words to use.

“He’s there, too,” Michael says.

Cas and Dean hold each other tightly as they push the button for the elevator. Dean feels like he’s spent more time in office 418 than his own classroom lately.

“What if he hates us?” Cas asks suddenly.

Dean nods, unable to push that same thought out of his head.

“Well,” Cas says. “Me.”

“What?” Dean asks.

Cas looks away. The elevator arrives and the doors slide open. Dean jams his finger into the Close Doors button.

“What if he hates me?” Cas whispers.

Dean cups his jaw and moves Cas’ face so their eyes meet. “Cas,” he says. “He won’t. It’s impossible for anyone with two eyes and a heart to hate you.”

Cas shakes his head, but Dean doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “Honestly it’s more likely he’ll hate me. It’s usually a hit or miss when you’re a teacher.” Cas drops his eyes, swallowing so hard Dean can feel it in his fingertips, still resting on Cas’ cheek. “And if he does,” Dean says. “We’ll just have to change his mind.”

“If this doesn’t work out...” Cas starts.

“Let’s go meet him,” Dean states, but he makes it a question with his eyes. Cas hesitates for a second, then nods.

Dean takes his finger off the Close Doors button and they finally slide open. Just past them is a very confused looking man with shaggy hair and a thick beard. He steps back in surprise when the door opens, nods to Dean and Cas, and enters the elevator.

“Whoops,” Dean mutters.

The walk to office 418 is a blurred swirl of maroon patterned rug, city skyline through the windows, and that one sheep painting that’s so out of place, Dean wonders who the hell thought it would be a good idea to put it here.

Dean knocks on the cheap wooden door.

Naomi opens it almost immediately. As usual, her hair is pinned up in a neat bun at the back of her head. She’s in a light gray pantsuit that softens her severe eyes. But she smiles when she sees Dean and Cas.

“Come in,” she says.

Dean looks around immediately when they step into her office. But they’re the only ones there. His heart flips over and suddenly he’s terrified there’s been a change, a problem with the paperwork, some circumstance they hadn’t foreseen....

“He’s in the other room with my assistant,” Naomi says. “I just wanted a word with you before you meet him.”

“Right,” Dean says. “Makes sense.” Cas squeezes his hand.

Naomi sits at her broad, polished desk, and gestures for them to take the seats across from her. They do.

“How are you feeling?” she asks with far more gentility than Dean would have expected.

“Nervous,” Cas answers. “Both of us. Unreasonably so.”

“That’s normal,” Naomi said. “If you weren’t nervous I would question your intentions.”

Dean shakes his head adamantly. “You know we just want what’s best for this kid.”

Naomi nods. “I do. You have shown me that. Now it’s your job to convince him.”

Cas looks at his lap. Dean feels like throwing up.

“I’ll have Lisa bring him in,” Naomi says, a soothing note to her voice. She presses a button on her desk phone.

“We’re all set, Lisa,” she says.

“Be right there,” Lisa replies.

Cas sits like he’s waiting for lightning to strike; completely still with his hands clasped in his lap. Dean’s leg won’t stop bouncing up and down.

The door opens and Naomi’s brown-haired assistant, Lisa Braeden, enters the room. Behind her is a teenage boy with dark hair and an even darker expression. It’s not that he looks angry; the opposite really. He looks resigned, beyond caring. It makes Dean’s heart twist painfully.

The boy is wearing ratty jeans and a black t-shirt that begs to have some sort of design on it. Dean wonders if he has any other clothes. He has a backpack hanging carelessly off his left shoulder. His wary eyes shift from Dean to Cas and then back.

They stand. Dean finds the seeds of a smile somewhere inside his clenching heart and offers them to the boy.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Dean. This is Cas.”

The boy looks at them. His eyes reach behind them to Naomi, and seem to be begging her for something. Naomi comes to stand between all of them.

“Dean, Castiel, this is Fergus. He’s fifteen years old and he’s a bit shy.”

“I’m not shy,” the boy snaps. He has a British accent and a smooth voice that makes him sound much older than fifteen. “And don’t call me Fergus,” he says to Dean and Cas. His eyes are like flint, sharp and sparkling. “Call me Crowley or nothing at all.”

He says it like a challenge, a dare. Beside Dean, Cas seemed slightly taken aback. But if there’s one thing Dean is used to dealing with, it’s an antagonistic teenager.

“Sure, Crowley,” he says easily. “You ready to go?”

Crowley glares at him, but nods sulkily.

“Would you like help carrying your things?” Cas asks him softly.

Crowley seems to consider, then shakes his head. Cas smiles at him and the boy looks away.

“Well, I hope you have a good evening,” Naomi says. “I’ll be in touch, but don’t hesitate to call me any time.” She makes eye contact with Crowley as if to make sure he knows he is included in that invitation.

“Thanks for everything, Naomi,” Dean says, and shakes her hand. Cas does the same, Crowley nods, and they head into the hallway.

“It’s about an hour’s drive,” Dean says. “Are you hungry, Crowley? We can stop somewhere.”

“I’m fine,” he says shortly.

“Okay,” Dean says. “The car’s just on the street.”

Crowley doesn’t respond. Cas looks at Dean with an expression Dean can’t read. He takes Cas’ hand.

Crowley keeps quiet until they reach the car. Dean fishes his keys out of his pocket and opens the door for Cas again. Crowley stops and stares at them.

“This is yours?” he asks flatly.

“Yep,” Dean answers, smiling with pride. He pats the Impala's polished black frame. “She’s my baby.”

Crowley sizes up the car for a long moment, then opens the back door and throws himself inside. Dean looks at Cas, who shrugs.

Cas reaches automatically to turn on the radio when Dean starts the car. Then he pauses, and turns around to look at Crowley.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asks. “Bad Moon Rising” is already playing softly in the background.

Crowley pauses before saying, “This is fine.”

Cas nods and turns back around.

“I’m thinking burgers for dinner,” Dean says, pulling away from the curb. “What do you think?”

“You want to serve him burgers on his first night with us?” Cas asks.

“Do you like burgers?” Dean asks, peeking at Crowley in the rearview mirror.

The boy shrugs and goes back to looking out the window.

“I grabbed some extra pies from the shop—” Cas begins, and Dean sits up straighter in excitement.

“What kind?” he asks.

Cas smiles that tiny smile that still lights his whole face. “All the kinds.”

Dean beams. “God, I love you.”

A tiny noise comes from the boy in the back seat, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. Cas raises his eyebrows, but Dean laughs.

“Cas runs a bakery,” he tells Crowley. “He can’t always smuggle goods home, but when he does, we eat like freaking kings.”

“Goodie,” Crowley mutters.

Dean takes Cas’ hand and holds it on the center console. Cas rubs his thumb across the back of Dean’s hand as they head home.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, this has already gotten waaaay out of hand. I intended this to be a one-shot, but now I have an entire domestic universe in my head that needs me to write it. So this will be a series just as soon as I can.   
> (And Hekate this is all your fault <3)


End file.
